


Crushes

by karcathy



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Humanstuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-13
Updated: 2013-05-13
Packaged: 2017-12-11 19:08:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/802158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karcathy/pseuds/karcathy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karkat likes Rose, and Rose likes sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crushes

You never expected to fall for a lesbian, although you don’t suppose it makes any difference. All your crushes have always gone unrequited anyway – this one shouldn’t be any different. In fact, if anything, it’s guaranteed to go the same way. That doesn’t make being around Rose any less awkward, though, and being in the same friend group doesn’t help, either. You just hope she doesn’t notice.

 

Given how little you and Rose actually talk, you think it was a little unfair of the others to leave you alone with her, at her house.

“So,” you say, fiddling with your hands and not looking at her.

“Something you want to talk about?” she asks, raising one eyebrow and smirking.

You feel your face heating up, and hope she doesn’t notice.

“Like what?” you say, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Like, perhaps, your feelings.”

“What feelings?” you ask, a little too quickly.

“Any feelings you might happen to have with regard to me,” she says, with a sly smile.

You freeze for a moment, then sigh.

“How’d you know?” you ask, inspecting the backs of your fingers.

“It was more obvious than you might like to think.”

“Oh.”

You sit in embarrassed silence for a moment.

“So... why did you bring this up?” you ask eventually, looking up at her, and now it’s her turn to blush.

“What do you think?”

The only thing you can think of to say is “But I thought you were a lesbian!”, a sentence which makes you cringe as it leaves your mouth.

“There are more sexualities than just straight and gay, you know,” she says, sounding amused, “Bisexual, for instance.”

“Oh. Yeah. Right. I knew that.”

You stay quiet for a moment, then say “What now?”

“Well...” she says, with a little smile, “You like me, I like you... and we’re alone...”

You blush furiously, and she laughs.

“I’m kidding,” she says, still smiling, “You’re cute when you blush.”

“Shut up.”  
She smiles at you until you have to grin too, a little reluctantly.

“Let’s just treat this like a date,” she suggests, “Watch a movie.”

“Awkwardly hold hands,” you add.

“Bump noses trying to kiss.”  
“Argue over who’s paying.”

“We’re at my house. Everything is free.”

“Well, technically your mom is paying,” you say, and she laughs.

“So it’s free, then,” she says, and you roll your eyes.

“Okay, fine, it’s free.”

She grins triumphantly, and leans across to a large cabinet, swinging open the door to reveal shelves of DVDs.

“A movie, then,” she says, running her finger along the cases, then pausing on _Notting Hill_.

She glances up at you, and you give her an emphatic “Yes”. Smiling, she slides over to the DVD player and puts it on, skipping through to the menu and clicking play.

“How did you know?” you ask, as she sits down next to you on the sofa.

“Come on, Karkat,” she says, rolling her eyes, “ _Everyone_ knows.”

“But how did you know this was my favourite?” you persist, glancing over at the TV to check it’s still on the opening credits.

“Oh. Lucky guess, then.”

You smile at her, then settle back into the sofa. She shuffles ever-so-slightly closer to you, so her leg brushes against yours. Your throat constricts, making it hard to swallow the sudden excess of saliva that seems to be flooding your mouth. The movie suddenly seems unimportant – and that, you find worrying. Since when did you not care about _Notting Hill_?

“Oh, this bit is funny,” she says, swinging her legs up next to her and leaning against you, “That Welsh guy is great.”

“Spike,” you say, absent-mindedly, and try to ignore your racing heart.

“Mmm.”

Her head rests against your shoulder, and you swallow sharply.

“So, uh, what’s your favourite film?” you ask, trying to distract yourself.

“I’m not sure. It varies,” she says, glancing up at you with a little smile, and resting her hand on your leg, “Perhaps _Chicago_.”

“That’s a musical, right?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I’m not really into musicals,” you say, swallowing nervously, “I mean... they’re all right... But, um...”

“They’re not everyone’s cup of tea,” she says, turning to face you.

Her face is just inches from yours, and you think now would be the perfect time to kiss her, if only you could work up the courage. You lean in a little, wondering if you can really go through with this, and she saves you the trouble by kissing you first. Her lips are soft and warm and her nose doesn’t bump into yours and, even though you’re not sure this is really happening, you like it.

“Are you still watching this?” she asks, pulling away and smiling.

“No,” you say, and you pull her in and kiss her again.

She slides across so she’s straddling your lap, her skirt bunched up at the top of her thighs, and runs her hands up your torso under your shirt, making you shiver. Breaking off the kiss again, she grins and grabs the hem of your shirt, pulling it up. It catches under your chin and you push her hands away, pulling it off yourself. As soon as it’s off, she leans back in and scatters kisses along your neck, her hands sliding down to the waistband of your pants. You slip your hands up and try to take off her shirt, but she slaps them away and you sigh.

“Why do you get to keep your clothes on?” you whine, as she undoes your button and unzips your fly.

“My house, my rules,” she says, smiling wickedly as she drags your pants and underpants down.

“Not, uh, fa-air.”

Your voice shakes as her hands slide teasingly downwards and she peppers your neck with kisses.

“I’m – aah – what about you?”

“All in good time,” she whispers, nibbling your earlobe.

You make a little disappointed noise as she pulls away and stands up, then blush as she shimmies her panties down and onto the floor.

“You blush so easily,” she says, smiling and sliding back onto your lap.

“Shut up,” you mutter, glaring at the couch.

“It’s cute,” she tells you, producing a condom from somewhere and deftly unwrapping it.

You wonder how often she does this as she slides it on with practised ease, and decide you don’t particularly care. You can consider those details later.

“Now it’s my turn,” she says, taking your right hand and gently guiding it between her legs.

She feels hot and wet and she moans a little when you touch her in just the right place, and it isn’t long before she pulls your hand away. She feels even hotter around your dick, and she rolls her hips against you, making you groan. She builds up a rhythm which gets faster and faster until you’re both sweaty and moaning and just waiting for the inevitable to come, which it does, quickly and messily and noisily.

“The movie’s still playing,” she says, collapsing against you.

“Mm,” you say, wrapping an arm around her, “This is the best part.”

“Good thing we didn’t miss it, then.”

She giggles tiredly, and you laugh. You don’t feel like moving for a while.  


End file.
